


The Endurance Trials

by PinkestDreamer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Hunger Games AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkestDreamer/pseuds/PinkestDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is Culling day, date in which each district sends a boy and girl to represent them in the Endurance Trials. They call you up and you freeze. Your lungs burn and your teeth clench. You still don’t know how you made your way to the stage. But you stand there. You stand there and stare ahead. They call him up and he stands next to you. And you both look out to the ones who sent you to your death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Endurance Trials! Based on the Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, it portrays the Homestuck characters fighting for survival in a ring, to represent their past and entertain the wealthy Capitol. This first chapter is short, but it gives you the ability to enter their world, in a sense. Enjoy!

The sun rises through the horizon, filling the world with light. All around the district, trolls prepare for the day, specifically today. Their best clothes are placed aside and they eat warm breakfasts each. The district is tranquil and silent. Today is Culling day, date in which each district sends a boy and girl to represent them in the Endurance Trials.

At the edge of the district lies your cabin, structure lopsided and wood bloated and worn. Your eyelids flutter open to greet the world and you squirm in your sheets in the lazy motion of a stretch. The sun flitters through your window, dimming under the torn, crimson curtains, and your eyes look next to you to find you are alone.

Usually your sister sleeps with you, despite her being three years older. But resources are scarce, and you two share a room. A slow hand moves to caress the sheets and the tips of your fingers still find them warm, as if she were here seconds ago.

Your elbows push against the mattress and you will yourself up, sitting. A lock of hair runs down your shoulder; you brush your bangs away. Everything is in its place, neat and tidy. Sighing, you get off your bed and your bare feet make their way across the creaking floorboards to your mother’s room.

You find the door ajar and gently nudge it open, poking your head in. The incense atop her bed table was replaced by a new one just a few minutes ago, filling the room with the smell of eucalyptus.

Your mother’s asleep, her head buried into her pillow. Her long hair is tussled and drapes over the sheets, snaking through the floor. You approach her, noticing her hands are balled into fists. They’re grasping the white sheets, surrounded by folds. Then you see them. Stains. Faint red spots that mark the tears she cried last night. They trail the covers until they hide away behind her face. She still suffers from her loss. You frown and kiss her head. Then you get ready to leave.

You head back to you room and prepare for the hunt, wrapping your whip around your waist. You’re dressed in dark colors for camouflage, and your feet are hidden within a pair of leather boots. You ensure you have your daggers at hand before look at your reflection in the mirror. Scarlet eyes stare back you, almost hidden under a mane of ebony curls that cascade to your waist. Your horns twirl forward like those of a ram. And in the middle of your shirt lies your symbol, representing the zodiac of Aries. It’s been representing the Megido family for generations.

Once you step foot outside, you spot your sister working on her lamb in a corner of the backyard. She stops what she’s doing to watch you go. She doesn’t talk much, but you are aware of the fact that she worries for you whenever you go. Your eyes met, red on red, and you offer a smile. It’s hard for her to smile, so she simply nods in return.

After that, you begin your way to the woods. Your eyes stare at the floor, at your shoes as they step on the dead leaves and twigs. The ground is dry, cracked and uneven, as it’s always been.

It takes a good while for you to reach your destination, something like ten minutes’ time, and you stop and stare. Rising to a fair height lays the Border, the separation between your district and unregistered territory.

Your run-down hive is the nearest to the fence, and seeing as you don’t have many neighbors, you proceed without much worry. The only thing that makes you stop is the instinct to listen to the sound of humming the fence would make. Of course, that would indicate it was functioning.

You crouch and stare ahead, controlling your breath to see if you can hear it. The world goes still around you, and you find no sound, so you proceed. It’s been years since the fence stopped working.

You throw one leg over the other, and then you twirl yourself out of the district and into free land. For a minute, you stand there admiring the freedom of it all, the beauty that freedom brings, and the amazing feeling of not having to depend on anyone for anything. You smile and hop down the slope, the soil squishing beneath your soles. The change of atmosphere is drastic. You suddenly become reckless and noisy and just run. You whoop and shout and pump your fists in the air the further in you go into the forest.

Green grass and trees full of life surround you. Birds chirp and the beasts prowl, stopping in alert once you pass by them.  You stretch your fingers and let them slap against the branches and the leaves and the spider webs. Morning dew falls on you when you shake some branches and it feels heavenly. Your hair whooshes behind you and your whip slaps your waist. This is paradise. This is freedom.

The trees start getting thicker and the sunlight shines through the small gaps between the treetops. It’s getting darker, colder, and you gradually feel your heart beating even faster. Immediately after, you reach the stream.

You jump into it, feeling relieved. The cool water laps your knees and you dramatically walk across, letting your arms fall to your sides so your fingertips feel the crystalline water. It was cool and calm, and it reminded you of what it felt like to be home. The home you used to love before your mother got taken away as a Handmaid.

You stop relieving yourself and begin your job once you cross the stream. With half your body still dripping wet from emerging from the water, you climb one of the trees and wait for an acceptable prey.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, you’re carrying three rabbits over your shoulder with a smirk on your face. These will be great for the feast, and with the fresh milk Damara got from her lamb, it’d be a feast fit for kings. You are now approaching the Border.

As usual, you wait to hear the nonexistent hum and cross, making your way back to your cabin. You can see from a distance that smoke rises from the chimney, which means your mother must be waiting for you to bring the meat for all of you to dine.

Leaving your hunting boots by the door, you enter and drop the rabbits on the kitchen table. Damara rushes into the kitchen and smiles, wrapping you into her arms. You hug her back, rubbing her back softly. She was so warm.

Then your mother enters the scene. She’s a slender woman of not much age, with flowing ebony hair that almost reaches past her waist. She smiles very briefly as your sister and you break the embrace, and then she begins to work on dinner. You approach her to help, but in an abrupt motion, she stops you.

“You have to get ready for the Culling. Your sister already laid out her older dress for you to wear. She will help you dress.”

Those were more words than your mother’s ever spoken for a long lapse of time. She doesn’t face you, and her voice is soft. You nod as a reply and give your thanks, following Damara into your room.

On the bed lays your sister’s old Culling dress, which you’ve discovered finally fits you this year. It’s short and soft to the touch, lightly worn around the hem. Its shoulders are puffy and the collar closes with the help of two pearly buttons. The Megido symbol is sewn on the left breast, black against the dark gray fabric. The entire piece of clothing was a somberly portrayal signifying the pain and sacrifice those before you have gone through.

Damara helps you bathe in the tin tub and her fingers comb through your hair. The smell of soap makes you relax. The warm water trickles down your skin and it all helps. It helps to not think of the Culling, Then she helps you dry off with a thick cloth and you two work on getting you in your dress. This year Damara does not participate in the Culling, for she has grown past the limit age. She will merely watch on from the sidelines.

Once you’re dressed, she works on your hair, combing through once again. She lets the curls settle and fluffs them for volume. You’re no too familiar with the physical aspect of ‘fashion’, so you let her work her magic. Your eyes grow heavy as she twirls your hair.

Next, when she finishes, she turns you gently around by the shoulders. You look into each other’s eyes and she doesn’t smile. She lifts your chin with one finger and plants a kiss on your forehead. You stand on the tip of your toes to kiss her forehead in return, and giggle to find your lipstick left a crimson mark. She joins you in your quiet laughter.

Afterwards, you both join your mother at the dinner table. Rabbit stew is served and steaming. You’re happy to see warm food after a so many days eating the easiest preparable—and almost always cold—meal. You all join for a prayer to the Signless and begin to eat.

Your sister and your mother seem at ease, but your stomach ties in knots. You pray once more, but in your inner self, that the Sufferer accompany you to the Culling grounds this day.


	2. Chapter 2

Your stomach is full, the knots within it become tighter as you head to town. Your family walks a few paces behind you, holding hands as they always did when you were all outside together. You’d be holding Damara’s hand or your mother’s if you’d stop shaking. But your pride gets the best of you and you just keep your vision straight.

Around you, other families emerge from their homes, clad in black and gray to celebrate the Culling day. Worried faces and whispered words are your ambiance. Desperate prayers and silent tears fill the air. And you hope the heavens above and the piercingly bright sun that everything goes well for you, your family, and the unlucky tributes of today.

You reach the town to find it more organized than any other day. Everyone wears their best dark colors and stare ahead as their children are herded into the Culling corrals. You give your mother and sister each a kiss on the cheek and a hug before you leave to join the others. You look over your shoulder to see them one last time, but they had already faded into the crowd.

You wait in line like the good girl they think you to be, gripping the hem of your dress in a desperate attempt to make your hands stop quivering. The girl in front of you takes a step forward and mumbles her name to the Threshecutioner. He nods and lets her pass. It is your turn now.

You are short of height, so you crane your neck to meet his gaze.

“Name?” It’s a cold, raspy tone of voice that makes your blood curdle.

“Aradia. Aradia Megido.”

He nods and gestures to the right den. You nod back and slowly make your way. Surrounding you are flocks of officials, dressed in black and fuchsia just like her Royal Condescension. You slip past them and stand almost at the back of the corral, able to recline against the wooden fencing. You don’t know the trolls that stand near you. Worried just like you, desperate to leave, yet unable to. They wear gray dresses and their hair is tied up in bows and artifacts. Like perfect little dolls.

Your eyes slide to the boys’ side of the corrals. They are all lean and muscular young men, dressed in their finest. They hold their heads high and their arms behind their backs. Their legs are apart like fine toy soldiers, alert and ready.

Unable to find them entertaining, you look up to the sky. It’s gray and somber just like everyone here. Soon it’ll rain, and that is a rare occasion for District 6. This brings one of the smallest smiles to your lips and a grain of hope finds its way into your chest. You will overcome this, you are lucky enough to survive this civilized massacre. If you’ve done so for two years, you can do it again.

The speakers that rest on the stage suddenly turn on, screeching and then giving the sound of a boom as the microphone is placed in its pedestal.

You gaze at the stage, at the screen that slowly descends from the back wall. The projector turns on, the colors blur as they focus on the image of Beforus, green and alive despite the wars that plagued it. The story of how Alternia came to be begins like very year, with the introduction of the Hemospectrum. The cooler your blood color, the bigger your benefit on life. The wars began when the differences between the blood colors arose and became threatening, leaving the land in death and ruin.

The only solution to the war was vocalized by the Signless. Peace and equality between every citizen. And although his words were heard and heeded to, the Condescension sent him to die for the difference he had from us. He did not hate anyone.

Based on his idea, the Condescension split the world in districts based on their blood colors, each of which would provide supplies to maintain the Capitol, where the Condescension and her royal subjects dwell.

Lastly, it informs the world why it is each district sacrifices a pair of its residents.

_Their blood is shed to honor those who fell._

Then the Alternia anthem plays and we all lower our heads, and show our horns to the screen out of respect. The image fades out; everyone straightens their backs and immediately walks in the district’s chaperone.

Colorful and cheery as ever, Jane Crocker strides to the center of the stage, her ornate shoes marking her every footfall on the wooden surface. She wears a teal blue blazer and skirt with a white undershirt. Her short black hair is decorated by a teal feather hidden behind her right ear. And her plump, tiny lips are also painted in that light blue color. Her hands are concealed within a pair of gloves as they tap the microphone.

Her lips part in a smile and her squeaky voice engulfs us.

“Good Morning, my beloved citizens of District 6!”

She still has a smile on her lips as her eyes scan the crowd in search for some sort of feedback, but no one speaks a word. Various shades of scarlet eyes stare back at her and she continues.

“The first day of the Endurance Trials, how exciting!” she chuckles into the mic, “Culling Day.”

Still receiving no positive answer, her wide smile falters. But she proceeds.

“Now, let’s see… I should present this district’s former winner, Jake English!”

A fanfare plays as Jake English stumbles onto the stage, having gotten caught in one of the electrical wires. He jumps on one leg and his arms flail around in a pitiful attempt to balance himself. Of course, gravity wins the battle and he tumbles to the floor, groaning from the pain of the impact.

Jane cringes from where she stands with her face full of utter disgust. Her fingers tighten around the mic, you notice, and her brows furrow. Before she can say anything else, Jake crawls across the stage to her side, grabs onto the hem of her skirt and pulls himself up. He smiles at Jane and snatches the mic— pedestal and all— out of her hands. The chaperone runs a hand through her hair before she turns and leaves the stage to him.  

He was dressed in a tailored suit, the accents colored lime green. His eyes were guarded by a pair of thick, square glasses, and his teeth were crooked as he smiled.

“Good Morning folks! Are you as excited as I am?!”

Everyone shares a glance in horror. No one should be excited today. They were sending their children to die in order to survive in their districts. It was eerily silent, in exception for the shuffling of feet in the corrals. What an imbecile. Our district truly had no winner. He was one of the only humans left, too.

“Of course, I wasn’t excited either…” he scratches his head. “But, we’re here now! Am I right?”

You consider his speech to be rather ridiculous. How the hell did he win a Trial? It must have been that physique of his, or maybe he lasted them all out. You wonder to yourself as he keeps speaking, his voice suave in comparison to his awkward presence. His free hand keeps moving as he gestures the crowd. You don’t catch most of the speech, but you know he’s blabbing on and on about what sacrifice means. He reuses the speech every year.

It goes up to a point where Jane has to wrench the microphone out of Jake’s hand in order to continue with the ceremony. She gives the camera a hasty grin and faces the audience of children at her feet.

The mic shrieks as she levels it and yanks it out of its pedestal. You all cringe in the corrals. The screen behind her shows a zoomed image of her form as she approaches one of the tanks that held the citizens’ names. In this case, the female citizens.

“Ladies first!” she chirps as she approaches it and chucks her hand within. She hums an awful song while her wrist twirls over the small pieces of paper. Everyone in the crowd inches forward as her hand submerges in the sea of names and immediately emerges with one chosen by fate.

She smiles once more and looks at the crowd. Her free hand struggles to stretch the folded note before she brings it to her face. Her shoulders slide back and her chin rises. She pronounces the name clearly, yet hesitantly.

“Aradia… Megido.”

One by one the girls in your corral turn their faces to see you. You look back at them, at a total loss over what was happening. The world has gone still, the noise has been muted. One shoves you forward, a gentle nudge. And you look at the stage to see what all the commotion is about, only to see your own perplexed face staring back from the screen. Your heart races. Your name… _she said your name!_

You instantly stand straight. Your chest quivers as you take a step forward, and the sea of trolls splits for you to pass. Your lungs burn and your teeth clench. You still don’t know how you made your way to the stage. But you stand there. You are there in front of everyone, focused on by the camera crew, and being broadcasted across the land.

Your knees shake as you ascend one stair. Your entire body is shaking. Yet you find no suitable way to make it stop. In the distance you can hear your sister. She bursts into a string of screams. They make your blood curdle and your hairs stand on end.

You look up once more to take the second step and find the image of your sister projected onto the screen. Cherry tears stain her cheeks as they fall. She screams nonsense, pushing past the two officers that held her back. She rams into the corrals and the tributes parts ways again, only to let her through.

You’re about to turn to meet her when Jane yanks you on stage and pushes you to your mark. The stage is too tall for Damara to jump in, and the officers get to her before she has a chance to reach the stairs. She pulls away and screams and stomps her feet, yelling your name again and again. No, is what she yells over and over, thrashing about in the Threshecutioner’ grasps.

Your heart shatters into a million pieces, however, you cannot console your sister. She cannot hold you anymore. You wonder right there if she ever _will_ be able to hold you again. Your eyes water, your hands ball into fists. Curse your uselessness. Damn your insignificance.

For a split second you got a glimps at Jane. She was frowning slightly, sad… It makes you wonder how much she truly knows about your suffering. She must despise this District, you never win, but you’re sure about the fact that sympathy is the best way to a human’s heart.

They leave Damara there, crying her heart out as the ceremony proceeds. Jane clears her throat and goes to the male citizens’ tanks. With less caution than before, she introduces her hand inside and lifts a note leisurely into the air. Next, she takes the paper and unfolds it. Her teal eyes narrow and her lips stretch to form words.

“... Karkat Vantas…”

The audience gasps collectively, and said Karkat steps away from the boy’s corral to come on stage. No one makes way for him, he just sort of slides between the rigid bodies until he comes into view. It hits you so fast you find yourself staring at him in stupor.

It’s the boy with the mutant blood.

He ascends the staircase like he has no worries in the world. Like they didn’t just send him to his death. His posture is straight and his strides are long. His lips are veering into his ever-present frown, and once he discovers you’ve laid eyes on him, he offers a slight smile. Odd.

You don’t have the courage to respond in the same manner. In fact, you don’t have the emotional strength to be standing there right now. It seems your lack of enthusiasm affected poor Karkat, because his smile immediately fades.

Jane helps him stand on his mark, just a few inches beside you. He stands straight and somewhat ready for this. His eyes stare forward. You decide to follow his gaze and land upon his older sibling. The second mutant blood.

He wears a black sweater replacing the bright crimson one he wears daily. His hands are hidden in his pockets and his head is held low. You look back at Karkat, and he has a tear sliding on his cheek.

Jane talks to the crowd and introduces you, bidding Damara a farewell as they drag her away kicking and hollering. She manages to meet your eyes for just a few seconds, enough time for her to see you mouth your goodbye.

_‘I love you.’_

She stops. She goes limp and lets the officers pull on her weight. Tears flow and her chest heaves for air, but she replies.

‘ _I love you too.’_

They place her on the crowd and she holds her head in her hands. Karkat’s brother comes over and embraces her and they cry into each other’s shoulder. How Damara let someone other than you be so close to her, your’re don’t know. But she seemed more at ease when she realized she wasn’t the only one to suffer. The camera gave the crowd a picture of what was going on, and of course no one made a sound. They all stood waiting.

And you hate them. You hate them because they don’t need to go through what you’ll be going through. You hate them because their word will send you to death or victory. And you can say Karkat hates them too. Even so, there is something different about the way he stares ahead. You can’t deduce what it is just yet.

The time comes for Karkat and you to shake hands. He extends his arm and hunches just by a bit. It’s ridiculous how tall he is compared to you. And you, you’re still shaking. Your hand touches his and you both give a firm shake. It’s a tradition, but it’s almost always overlooked.

Once the final official act of shaking hands and ‘creating bonds’ is over, you both stare out at the crowd. You both look out to the ones who sent you to your death.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The only thing that lets you know you’re still alive are the paces of the Threshecutioners as they guide you to the storage room. From there, you’ll be transported to the ship that will take you to the capitol.

You feel knots in your stomach, worse than before. And your mind is so jumbled you forget the words of the Sufferer’s Speech. Your prayer fades into nothingness.

Karkat was dragged away by another pair of officers, probably to another storage room. He never voiced any protest, he should very little emotion. He had this amazing ability to shield his emotions, his brows always arched downwards in what could be described as anger. What could he be angry about?

Your steps are quiet and light, as you’ve trained yourself to walk. Your eyes stare at every new thing that comes into your sight, which counts as many things, seeing as you’ve never been here before.

The officers reach the room and one opens the door. The other extends his arm to welcome you in. You can’t see the expression in their faces, due to the helmet that hid them. But you want to imagine they felt sympathetic. These Threshecutioners have lived in District 6 long enough to know how its citizens suffer.

You shuffle on your feet and take a slow step forward. It is extremely difficult to control your emotions and you wish deeply you had the willpower to run away right then and there, to escape this reality. But your thoughts vanish when the Threshecutioner wraps his finger around your arms and gently guides you inside, as if you’ve forgotten how to walk.

You limp as you enter and before you fully turn, the door is closed and the lock snaps shut. You give the portal a longing gaze and your hands rush to cover your face. You scratch at it and move your hands to comb your hair away from your eyes. Everything feels unreal, including the breaths you take.

Inside the storage room are various velvet chairs and plush sofa. A window looks out to the now empty town. You near it and find a few gray figures in the distance. Everyone’s retreated to their homes as quickly as they could, and it makes you wonder if your family did as well. The purpose of the storage room is to bid farewell, after all.

As if your wish comes true, the door opens to reveal your mother and your sister, rushing inside. Their eyes are puffy from the screaming, bloodshot. Damara is the first to approach you. She wraps her arms around you and pulls you to her chest, kissing the top of your head over and over. She whispers words of nonsense, meant to console you. Yet you have a hard time believing each encouraging phrase.

Between each set of words, she chokes a sob and her chest heaves, coughing. The only thing you can do in return is rub circles in her back, shushing her to no avail.

Your mother stands aloof in a corner and time is running out. You detach Damara from yourself and give a few steps towards your mother, The Handmaid.

Her hair, which you love to stroke and brush, is fastened into a bun on her head, leaving two long strands to frame her face, much like Damara. Her dress is gray and designed in an oriental fashion, silky fabric flowing the ground and parting at the side to show a bit of her frail ashen skin. The symbol of Aries rests on her left breast, colored crimson like your blood.

She makes no move to bring you close, but her frown deepens at your presence. You’re not sure whether she’s disappointed or sad. It’s so very hard to decipher. You are about to open your mouth and form words when suddenly her arms extend. They do so slowly and hesitantly, but the action is evident.

You fall into her and sigh, quivering, trying your best to not cry. Her lips find their way to your ear and her voice is gently as she whispers to you.

“You have a chance at winning. You can hunt.”

Your eyes widen, and the grasp you had on the fabric of her dress tightens.

“I only hunt beasts.”

“There’s not much of a difference, Aradia. The Megidos are tired of being… dead…”

She pulls away to look you in the eye. “In fact, you should feel very much alive.” Then she smiles. It’s so radiant and genuine it brings chills to your spine.

You turn to your sister and offer an embrace. Damara doesn’t question the action and goes to you, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other wrapping around your mother’s.

A Threshecutioner enters the room and informs you that the time is over. Your sister immediately panics, giving short screams as they take her away from you. You give have to yell your last words in order for her to hear.

“I’ll win this! For you!”

And the door slams, leaving you to pound at it with all your might. You’re certain your screams can be heard outside.

 

* * *

 

You walk beside Jane to reach the ship that will you take you to the Capitol. Surrounding you are the cameraman and the press, shouting questions, shoving microphones into your face. Minding the warnings both Jake and Jane gave you beforehand, you don’t answer any of them, or look directly at any camera.

Karkat walks beside you, clearly nervous. His façade begins to fail and he’s left desperately lost, looking around, drowning in the flashes of light. He hunches and tries to blend in the somber landscapes, but fails due to the pair of bright red orbs that are his eyes. You begin to think they might glow to some extent.

Out of the corner of your eyes you spot the screen on stage. It shows your team on their way to the station. You are proud to find you look rather uninterested, it gives people something to talk about. You hope your mother and Damara are watching you and you hope they are less scared now that you’ve reassured you weren’t going to give up so easily.

Jane struts in front of you, accompanied by Jake, who’s so large his strides match three of Ms. Crocker’s.  They aren’t paying attention to the media as well, looking strictly forwards with a serious gaze. It’s like this every year.

Eventually, the media disperses and you all reach the station. It is heavily guarded by the Threshecutioners. And besides them and your group, there are no other people within the majestic building. You look around in silent wonder. Your District uses this station to send the Gems and Minerals they supply to the Capitol.

There are no carts today, but you recall scurrying around as a child near the stations and looking at all the bright colors, in all sizes and shapes. Their presence here would make you at least a bit more comfortable, but you find that too much to ask.

You stop walking when Jane stops in front of you, her smile broad and cheery and her fingers drumming at the air in excitement. Before you is the ship, slick and futuristic, with red markings to make known its district. It’s thin and triangular and it makes you question its aerodynamics for a moment.

Karkat grumbles at your side, unimpressed, his arms crossed. Finally he shows some emotion. He even looked a bit pale on the way here. Everyone stands in silence, admiring the vessel.

Jane turns to speak to you both, crossing her arms behind her back. Behind her, the ship’s doors began to open.

“Oh you’re going to love this! Never have I seen such a fancy ride in  _all_  my days, and the Capitol has hundreds of these. Maybe it’s the scenery that counts… in fact you’ll be passing through the land of quartz and melody and…”

She didn’t stop talking, you stopped listening. Because once they opened those doors, you stood—not in front of a vessel—but in front of a palace. A moving palace filled to the brim with riches and colors. The chairs and the rugs were golden and velvet, and glass windows stretched on each wall. Jane’s voice fades in the distance and your body grows suddenly cold. The amazement was so much, you don’t correctly recall how it is you managed to walk into the aircraft.  


End file.
